Blood and Water

Last week our two goats had their kids. During the month prior, The Mister of the House purchased a goat care book, watched disturbing YouTube videos, and checked on the expectant mothers several times a day. When some experienced farmer friends indicated that the goats could go any day now, The Mister of the House officially shifted into hyperdrive. He turned to me after they left and stated: I don't even have my birthing kit ready yet!

As for me, I generally snored like a lion while The Mister wrested the sheets worrying about the having to turn a baby goat for delivery. When it comes to his paternal-like worry patterns in comparison with my seeming indifference, I'd like to chalk it up to the fact that I have birthed three kids of my own, that I trust the female species to get the job down, and my inner sense of keeping it cool. Yet, I have to admit that my husband is a Man of Action who gets the job done. So I thanked him by nodding off mid-sentence and sleeping like a baby, all the while smiling sweet lover's dream of worried husbands scrambling to assemble a birthing kit.

As for my own part in the bringing of new life to the farm, I was excited! I have sweat, bled, and cried while bringing my kids into the world, and have never been afforded the birds-eye view of the process. To say I was curious is putting it lightly. And to calm The Mister's fears, and because I have smaller hands, I agreed to turn the baby goat if the delivery went amiss.

So last Wednesday I got birth on my hands. Okay just a second, how cool is that sentence: Last Wednesday I got birth on my hands.

Alright alright...I wasn't up to my elbows in the ooey-gooey. As my female senses detected (that's what it was right?) the baby goats arrived without any complication with no mid-birthing canal transitions. But apparently the curse of Eve and the consequential increase of sorrow while bringing life into the world attends all female counterparts, not just the human ones. So as it happened, the mama goat scrambled and jolted with her pains and practically birthed her kid into the wall. So after the crowning, and an exclamation of joy! I pulled the baby onto a towel so we could gargle the guck from his nose and throat.

It was truly precious to see. Mama licked her baby clean, licked my hands clean, then ate her afterbirth.

These things happen in nature people.

And I am left to ponder: Should I really be getting this attached to farm animals? Why does *most* life begin awash in blood and water?



And again and again, this scripture kept tumbling through my brain:

For by the water ye keep the commandment; by the Spirit ye are justified, and by the blood ye are sanctified;

Blood and water keeps working again and again: to bring life, to renew life, to atone.



Ready for some pictures folks?

I know I know! I honestly look like a new mother. Kindof cheesy, but here I am with one of Matilda's twins.



And here's the REAL farmer bob with the goats. To say that this man is finding his purpose in life here on the farm, is to say that everyone loves ice cream. Tis true. Tis true.


Poor little Rainbow Girl is the #1 help on the farm. After watching her second goat birth, she stated: I don't want to be a girl. But with her female-ness comes the innate love and nurturing that is a gift to all daughters of Eve, be they mothers or not.



Behold the seed of Agamemnon!



My poop boots are cooler than your poop boots.



The end.